


Having Super Healing Doesn't Work If You Can't Sit Still

by jennserr



Series: The Misadventures of Avengers Initiates [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Lesbian Character, Mentioned Clint Barton - Freeform, Mentioned Natasha Romanov - Freeform, POV Lesbian Character, POV Transgender Character, Spies, Spy - Freeform, Spy training, The Hub - Freeform, Training, Undercover, alternate POV, black widow's daughter, computer hacker, genetic experiments, transgender character, undercover training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 17:23:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4714250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennserr/pseuds/jennserr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Valeriya Romanov is technically Black Widow's daughter, enhanced with a version of the Serum. Serra Barton is Hawkeye's extremely gay hacker niece.</p>
<p>Both are Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.</p>
<p>Both are teenagers.</p>
<p>What could possibly go wrong?</p>
<p>Join "Wild Card" and "Halo" as they travel the world on mission after mission, getting in and out of trouble as they do, and generally being the best teenage agents S.H.I.E.L.D. has ever seen. This time, they're spending a few days at the Hub after their recent escapades in Cairo, where they're given a new mission, meet old friends, and even meet a certain man out of time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. POV - Serra

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, there is a perfectly logical explanation as to how Natasha Romanov has a biological daughter, but it will be explained in full sometime around the fifth or sixth 'chapter' in this saga.
> 
> If you feel like you've read this before, skip to the notes at the end.

“I swear, this is the fifth time you've been in here this month,” Doctor Spencer muttered darkly as she finished stitching up the graze on Valeriya’s side.

“Sixth,” I commented from my seat off to the side of the room, not bothering to raise my head. While my partner was being sewn back together, I was filling out my mission log. Which would take fucking forever—for me anyways. Somehow, Valeriya was able to fill hers out in like, five minutes. On a bad day.  
  
As a matter of fact, she was attempting to fill it out with one hand, keeping the clipboard holding the papers on her lap, while Spencer was stitching her up. Which was the reason it was taking longer; the doctor had to keep reminding my partner to sit still and let her finish her work, “or so help me I’ll leave this needle in you.”

The whole matter of getting Valeriya patched up again took about three minutes or so, most of which was running general diagnostics and making sure the rest of her was alright. Once done, she was free to go, and I followed her out of the medical wing as she called a ‘thank you’ to Spencer, which was followed by a stern reminder from the doctor not to engage in any strenuous activity that might pull the stitches.

“So. What now?” I asked, not really looking up from my report as we walked down the halls of the The Hub.

“Now we go to the gym,” she replied, and I noticed when I glanced up that she was quite a few paces in front of me.

I rushed to catch up, my blue hair bouncing with each step. “You’ve got a bullet wound in your side, which was literally just stitched up, and the first thing you want to do is to tear it open by beating something up?”

She paused ever so slightly, but continued her forward motion. “Order only comes from pain, Barton.”

“I swear, just because you're a super-soldier doesn't mean you can do whatever you want and come out unscathed.” That, and the fact that she was fucking Natasha Romanov’s daughter, generally made her to be one cocky 16 year old. “One of these days, you’re gonna get yourself killed, and I won't be there to get you out.”

“Please,” she scoffed. “It’s _my_ job to keep _you_ safe.”

I stared at her, incredulous. “Except for the fact that I’m hardly ever in the field, because I’m making sure that you can get in and get out without difficulty.”

“So what part of Jerusalem and Cairo was ‘without difficulty’?”

By now, we were standing just outside the gym, and our bickering was slowly attracting the attention of the more senior agents who were working out. Not wanting to let her get the last word, I said, “I did everything that I could to get you out safely; you not having anywhere to go, and subsequently getting shot, is on me. So, yeah, it was difficult, but I tried. It’s my job to.”

I then turned on my heel and stalked over to the closest bench, where I sat down with a huff and continued filling out my mission report. I glanced up through my dark blue bangs just in time to see Valeriya stick her tongue out at me—and they say she's the mature one—before moving over to a punching bag hanging form the rafters not far from where I sat.

She didn't even bother to wrap her knuckles before starting in on the poor bag, letting out a great deal of frustration in the form of powerful puches. And that’s powerful by her standards; if she were to actually hit someone like that, they'd probably be dead in one hit, and if that one didn't finish them off then the second hit would.

I went back to my report. “You're gonna pop your stitches. And probably break your hands. Or the bag, whichever comes first.” She didn't respond, but I did notice her throttle back just a tiny bit

Not that it would help. Not even a minute later, I heard a very small tearing noise, followed by a very loud exclamation of “Fuck!” from my partner, who was now clutching her wounded side in pain.

I opened my mouth, an “I told you so” on the tip of my tongue, but she shot me a glare so sharp I shut up before I even started talking. Instead, I stood up, walked over to her, and gently took her other arm. “Come on, let's get you stitched up. Again.”

 

* * *

 

I managed to finish my report as she was getting restitched (Dr. Spencer definitely wasn’t happy to see her again so soon), and when she was done we both started to make our way towards Agent Thomas’ office, which was on the opposite side of the Hub from the medical wing and several floors down.

We had been waiting about 30 seconds for an elevator down to his floor when a vaguely familiar voice spoke up behind us.

“My, I haven't seen you two in a while.”

Valeriya and I both turned around at the same time, though while I couldn’t quite figure out just who I was looking at, my partner had a sharp intake of breath, followed closely by a burst of rapid Chinese that I assumed was a greeting. The woman greeted her in kind, and the two started up a conversation just as the elevator doors opened to let us on.

It wasn't until we began to descend that I made the connection. “You're Agent May!” I all but shouted, snapping my fingers as I did.

She turned slightly towards me, giving me a slight smile. “Hello, Serra. How’d the mission go?”

“Er... Well, we completed it, and that's what matters, right?” I gave her a crooked smile.

“She just doesn’t want to tell you that I got shot,” Valeriya muttered.

“Again? Does your mother know?”

“Not yet, and I’d like it if it stayed that way,” she said, just as the elevator doors opened onto Thomas’ floor.

I stepped out of the elevator a little ways, then turned back to see my partner checking her phone. “Not coming?”

She didn’t look up. “Nope. Got a meeting further down in a few minutes. Can you take my report to Thomas?”

“Alright.” I reached out and took the paperwork from her. “Meeting with who?”

Valeriya Romanov gave me a grin as the elevator dinged and started to close. “That’s classified.”

And with that, I was alone.

After taking a second to get my bearings, I started in the direction of my S.O.’s office, which was about a half of a kilometers walk from the elevator I had exited. And that wasn’t even the farthest walk I'd take today. For once, I didn’t pass many people on my way there, but I figured that was due to the very late (or early?) hour that my partner and I had arrived back here from Egypt. Except that, for the most part, the Hub was a 24/7 facility...

I’m sure I would have questioned it more if I were more awake, but right now my brain was prioritizing something else: turning in our mission reports, and getting a massive amount of sleep. And right now, I found myself outside Agent Thomas’s small office, feeling very much ready for that rest. And from the look of things as I entered the office, so did Thomas.

“Please tell me Romanov is with you,” he yawned, blinking repeatedly to clear his eyes. “Because I can't get any shut-eye until I get your reports.”

I almost laughed. “Don't worry, I have her report with me. And yes, before you ask, I filled it out completely.” I deposited both reports right in front of him on his desk, amid quite a few other papers. I thought I saw a red mark that resembled a skull on one of them, but his arm covered it when he reached forward to look through our mission reports.

After a few seconds of flipping through them—paying more attention to mine, I noticed—he let out a sigh and sat back, setting the files down on his desk and running a hand through his mussed hair. “Alright, well, they look good to me, but I’m too tired to read through them tonight. I’m gonna go hit the hay.” He glanced up at me and winced. “You should really get some sleep too, Barton. Seriously.”

I shrugged. “Yeah, probably...especially after two back-to-back missions in the middle east with the same objective...” I trailed off and looked over at a military clock hanging on the wall to my right. 0349. Close to four in the morning. No wonder he was tired. “I should probably go and get some sleep. And leave you alone for the night. Morning. Whatever. See ya.” I turned and quickly left the room before I could make the conversation any more awkward, and began the long journey to my quarters.

 

* * *

 

As places go, The Hub isn't so bad of a place to live in. It’s not exactly warm and comforting, but it's got al the essentials when it comes to housing. We get our own private quarters, which come with a single bed, desk and chair, dresser, closet, and small bathroom with shower. Of course, back at Communications Academy, it's pretty much the same, but somehow the atmosphere is warmer there, more homely and welcoming. Probably because we're there to learn, and here to do missions.

Anyways. The place I called “home” during my layovers between missions was two levels above the main hangar floor and quite a ways in, on the edge of the general housing section. I didn’t really spend much time in it—I was always either away on a mission with Romanov or at Academy—so it was fairly neat and tidy. Meaning there weren't a bunch of dirty clothes and random tech strewn everywhere. I’d have to fix that one of these days.

I swiped my ID and entered a six-digit key code, went through the door, and promptly threw myself onto my bed, kicking the door shut as I did and not even bothering to turn on the light. Ah, it felt nice to finally be able to properly rest. For the past week, I’d been running on an average of three hours of sleep, and approximately a gallon of coffee or other high-caffeine drinks each day. It was a miracle I’d lasted this long, and I doubt I'd be able to last much longer.

I must have fallen asleep, because I woke up to a loud beeping noise. A very, obnoxiously, blaringly loud noise, the kind that you only get when you’ve slept through your first five alarms. Or when you have a mission alert.

“Shit!” I exclaimed as I jumped off of my bed—only to fall face first onto the hard floor of my room. Groaning, I slowly picked myself up, now very much awake, and fumbled around in the dark for my pack. Sure, it might help if I turned on the lights, but when you’ve slept through a mission alert, you can't really help having tunnel vision.

After a few seconds of frantic searching, I finally located my bag, then dived into the front pocket for my phone. When I pulled it out, the alarm only became louder, and the brightness of the screen temporarily blinded me in the darkness of my room. As my eyes adjusted to the new light, I was able to make out the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo flashing on the screen, with the words “ **Report to Briefing Room 371 immediately** ” superimposed over it.

Dammit. 371 was all the way on the other side of the Hub. I checked the time on my phone. 6:31. _Two days after we arrived at the Hub_. Fuck, I slept through a whole day again. Well, better make up for lost time; time to find out how fast I could get to the briefing.

Easier said than done.

I nearly collided with a communications agent as I dashed out of my room, only managing to avoid her by pivoting around her in a move that would make Romanov proud. At the first intersection I came to, I had to jump over a cart of something—probably weapons—which elicited a shout from the person pushing it. Then, rather than taking the long way around, I decided to descend two flights of stairs—nearly broke my ankle as I all but flew down the second one—to the main hangar, then sprint to the other side and back up the stairs. I only narrowly missed being run over by a lifter carrying several large crates of supplies to one of the numerous Quinjets scattered around. That also elicited an angry shout from the driver.

I managed to get to the stairs on the other side of the hangar without running into anyone or anything, and practically vaulted up three levels in my haste to get to 317. I paused at the top to get my bearings and figure out where I should be headed, then took off through the corridor directly across from the stairs.

Halfway there. Come on, Barton, you can do this.

After the hangar, it was a simple matter of dodging around the operative agents crowding the halls and getting through one or two doors level five clearance or higher. The doors proved the harderst, but that’s not saying much. Sure, I’m barely even Level One clearance, but my partner is a Level Seven, _and_ I could use my phone to run a sequence that can open—almost—any door. Too bad Valeriya couldn't use it in Cairo.

I paused to collect myself outside the briefing room, taking the moment to catch my breath and make it appear like I definitely didn't sleep in and have to run across the entire fucking base to get here on time. Or—I checked my phone, and swore—fifteen minutes late. Maybe if I told them that two agents from the Science division had been walking very slowly in front of me for most of the time, and then I’d had to take a different route because there was a gas leak in one of the main hallways...

Whatever excuse I had died on my lips as I opened the door, in time to hear Valeriya say, “—taken a shower first? I probably could before Barton gets here.” The reason for my silence wasn’t really the fact that, as soon as I entered, every set of eyes in the room (not that there were many, but still) turned in my direction, including those of Thomas _and_ Hill. No, it was the fact that one of those sets of eyes was really just one eye and a black eye patch.

“So glad you could join us, Barton,” Director Fury remarked with just a hint of sarcasm. “Have a seat.” He gestured to the empty office chair adjacent to Valeriya, across the table from where he stood.

“Hope I haven’t kept you waiting long,” I mumbled as I sat down.

Fury made no comment. Instead, he tapped a finger on the table—a Holo Table, as it turned out—and various diagrams, building plans, and schedules appeared before us.

“It’s worth mentioning, before I begin, why I personally picked you two for this mission.” He pointed at one of the schedules. “The target is a private, secure server in the Columbian Consulate in Moscow, only accessible by direct link. Otherwise, we would have just asked you to break in from here. Now, In six weeks time, there will be a gala at the Consulate, and you will use that as a way to get in.”

“Pardon me, sir, but couldn't you jut sent in some older, more experienced agents?” Valeriya asked, beating me to the punch.

“I was getting to that. Unfortunately, getting in an adult is exponentially more difficult than getting in a child. See, with you, all you need is a parent who's been invited, and you're in. For any other agent, we would need to forge or steal an invite, of which might be compromised when the time comes.”

“And the reason for going during the gala?” I asked.

“The only opportunity to get past their security systems.”

Valeriya voiced her question next. “Wouldn't the security actually be stronger during the gala though?”

“Very good. Yes, it will, but they won’t know to look for teenagers. Which is why you two are going.” He swiped his hand across the projections, causing them to be replaced by two sets of schedules. “For the next six weeks, you both will be going through a training program related to your role in this mission. I expect you both to be ready in five.”

I pulled out my phone and set it on the table, where it began to automatically copy all the files Fury had shown us onto the device.

“If you have no further questions, you are dismissed. Report to Training Room 2 tomorrow at 0600.”

With that, he swept out of the room, leaving Romanov and I to our own devices.

“So,” I said, my voice echoeing slightly off the walls. “Russia?”


	2. POV- Valeriya

Chapter 2 - Valeriya  
I stopped writing as the needle worked back through my skin. “I swear, this is the fifth time you’ve been in here this month.” Doctor Spencer had been stitching me up from one injury or another for the last several years and I liked her as far as my doctors went. I have several.

“Sixth,” Serra corrected from her chair in the corner and I glared at her as I went back to completing my mission report. Writing while getting my side sewn together wasn’t the most pleasant experience but it wasn’t difficult either. I just had to make sure I was holding the clipboard properly, which got in the doctor’s way.

“Stop moving so I can finish or so help me I will leave this needle in you.” I grinned, staying statue still for the last few minutes. I even held my breath, which she shot me a look for. “Alright, you’re good to go. No other injuries this time.”

I hopped up and stretched. I needed to move. “Thanks again, Doc!” I called over my shoulder as Serra followed me out.

“Don’t do anything to pull those, Romanov! No strenuous activity for at least two days!”

“So what now?” Serra was still hunched over her mission report, almost walking into a wall when I turned a corner.

“Now we go to the gym,” I told her as if was obvious. Which to me it was. My genetics might keep me from actually needing to work out to maintain muscle mass but that didn’t mean I was good at sitting still.

Serra scurried to keep up, having fallen behind while not looking where I was going. “You’ve got a bullet wound in your side, which was literally just stitched up, and the first thing you want to do is tear it open by beating something up?”

I didn’t stop, but my step momentarily slowed. I shrugged, my ponytail flying. “Order only comes from pain, Barton.”

“I swear, just because you’re a super soldier doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want and come out unscathed.” She was irritated, mostly because my mother probably scared her witless. Despite a hard exterior, Romanov was just like any other mother who’s daughter regularly got shot at I’d imagine. I didn’t exactly have a lot of comparable material.

“One of these days you’re gonna get yourself killed, and I wont be there to get you out.”

I tried not to laugh. “Please, its _my_ job to keep _you_ safe.” Not in those words exactly, but that was kind of the gist of it. Mission parameters usually included ‘keep Barton out of the line of fire’ or ‘make sure to keep them off Barton’s scent’. There’s a reason she wasn’t in the field much. Jerusalem had been risky, and I did the best I could at the time. I could feel her staring at me.

“Except for the fact that I’m hardly ever in the field, because I’m making sure you can get in and out without difficulty.” We stopped outside the gym, standing a few paces apart. Her voice had gone up in volume and I frowned, feeling the need to hit something. Hard.

“So what part of Jerusalem and Cairo was ‘without difficulty’?” I spat back, the words coming out like a threat.

Some of the other agents—a fresh intake from Operations Academy by the looks of it—had stopped to look at us warily. They were all older, and no doubt wondering why teenaged girls were arguing in a gym of all places. It was rather commonplace though, so they’d learn soon enough. I’d already turned away from my partner, contemplating if I’d be here long enough to warrant wrapping my hands.

“I did everything that I could to get you out safely; you having nowhere to go, and subsequently getting shot, is on me. So, yeah, it was difficult, but I tried. Its my job to.” She stalked off to a bench, looking up in time to catch the face I made at her.

The punching bag in the corner was new, and I forwent wraps as I hit it. It wasn’t worth waiting, I was angry. Angry at Serra for being right, angry at being shot, angry at Fury for sending us in the first place. Serra was a good hacker- amazing even- but was only fifteen. She didn’t speak Arabic and whatever had been up with the code wasn’t on her. She wasn’t even supposed to be on missions, she should be at a normal high school worrying about normal things; not that her partner was a super spy. Punching inanimate things wasn’t as good as running for getting out energy but it was better for aggression. The blows landed loudly, the force behind them harder than I had meant that time.

“You’re gonna pop your stitches.” Serra wasn’t even looking up. “And probably break your hand. Or the bag, whichever comes first,” she added as an afterthought. It’d be the bag, I knew from experience.

Answering didn’t seem constructive, but I took her unspoken advise anyway. I didn’t hit as hard, letting more of the blows glance off to dispurse the energy rather than drive them through. I’d followed through a hook into a left cross when I felt the snap of the surgical thread coming apart. “Fuck!” I grabbed my side, though I wasn’t bleeding much. I stood still as I hissed an exhale through my clenched jaw.

Serra would have commented, she was all ready to, but I glared. It was a look I’d perfected after watching Natasha use it on others. Serra shut her mouth again. “Come on,” she told me as she took my other arm. “Lets get you stitched up… again.”

 

* * *

 

 

To say Doctor Spencer was surprised would be inaccurate. The right word would be something closer to disappointed, I think. It must have been a new record for her patients to break their stitching; just under fifteen minutes. After a brief scolding about not being indestructible and redoing the threadwork, she sent us on our way.

It was time to find Thomas. His office was across the building though it was a short walk. Serra demanded we take the elevator instead of the numerous flights of stairs. I heard the footsteps before anyone spoke but growing up in busy offices meant you had to learn to tune some things out.

“My, I haven’t seen you two in a while.” Okay, best not to tune this one out.

Serra and I turned. I grinned, though Serra looked lost. “ _Aunt Melinda! Finally left that cave of an office then?_ ”

“ _I've got some business with the Director._ ” The woman looked me up and down and gave me a pointed look. “ _How'd the mission go?_ ”

The elevator doors opened and we stepped on, my partner trailing a few steps behind as she tried to remember how she knew the new person.

“ _Eh, you know. Not too bad._ ” She gave me a doubtful look. “ _Nothing I couldn’t handle._ ”

“You’re Agent May!” Serra finally exclaimed.

May gave her a small smile. “Hello, Serra. How'd the mission go?”

Serra's enthusiasm disappeared. “Er... Well, we completed it, and that’s what matters, right?”

I rolled my eyes at my partner. “She just doesn’t want to tell you that I got shot.” It was muttered but May still heard it.

“Again?” she didn’t sound that concerned. “Does your mother know?”

I resisted the urge to pull at the hem of my coat. “Not yet.” And she’s not going to be thrilled about it. “And I'd like it if it stayed that way.”

The elevator doors opened onto our handler's floor and Serra stepped out. I started to follow when my phone buzzed in my pocket. **Report to Director Fury, Immediately.** I stopped walking.

“Not coming?” Serra looked at me curiously.

“Nope. Got a meeting further down in a few minutes.” I held my report out to her. “Can you take my report to Thomas?”

“Alright. Meeting with who?” She took the folder.

There wasn’t anything stopping me from telling her where I was going. Level seven, yeah, but nothing sensitive was in the message. I just smiled at her. “That’s classified.” The elevator doors shut.

My aunt looked at me. “The Director?”

“Yeah... It shouldn’t run too long. All I did was break a window, not a person.”

The look on her face was unreadable again but she let the comment go. “When’s your mom get back?”

I checked the time. 0335. “Later this morning. We head home after she's cleared.”

The elevator stopped and opened onto Fury’s floor. Conversation stopped rather abruptly.

 

* * *

 

 

If May hadn’t been told I was supposed to see Fury, I thought it best to wait while she met with him. After a few minutes she was on her way and there was a silent ‘good luck’ in the look she gave me. I didn’t think I was there for much in the way of disciplinary action this time but now I wasn’t so sure. I popped my neck and stepped into the office.

I’d actually spent a fair amount of time here when I was younger for one reason or another. After a rather legendary game of hide and seek that had half the field agents on site looking for two days I’d gotten a particularly nasty talk that had gone on almost as long. I stopped in front of the director’s desk, arms folded neatly behind my back.

“Sir, you sent for me?”

He turned from a screen to face me. “Ah, Romanov, yes. You got here quickly. Didn’t pull the stitches again on the way down, did you?”

“Actually, Sir, Serra insisted on the elevator this time. Something about not wanting to overwork Dr. Spencer.” I kept the smile off my face, but it was pretty clear in my tone. He didn’t seem amused but it could be hard to tell. I was his favorite niece- well I was his only as far as I knew but I got away with quite a lot on a regular basis.

He stood and walked around the desk to another screen.

“Sir, if this is about the window in Cairo…” I trailed off as there was noise behind me at the door. Fury nodded to someone and then gave me a look. “I understand that it wasn’t within normal parameters for a covert mission but there was no way out without killing at least-“

“It’s not about Cairo, Romanov.” I opened my mouth to speak but shut it at the glare he gave me. “You’ve nearly outgrown constructive training in Academy. We’re moving the process a bit more in house.” There was the sound of the door opening and then closing and I sensed another person in the room. I couldn’t stop myself and turned around to see who it was. “Agent Romanov, I want you to meet—“

“Holy fuck, you’re Captain America!” After years of hearing Coulson’s stories about the man, I never actually thought I’d meet him. I realized that shouting fuck was probably not the best way to make a good impression.

“Language, young lady,” was his first reponse.

“Oh, shit, sorry.” I managed to keep the blush off my face. Fury almost looked amused, I think.

“Captain Rogers, this is Agent Romanov. One of our best and brightest. I spoke to you about training her earlier.” Fury wants him training me? Oh Uncle Phil is gonna be so jealous…

Rogers looked me over and I can’t imagine I looked like much to him. I was short, my hair flying about despite the ponytail I kept it in, and my freckles made me look younger than I am. “Director Fury, she’s just a kid.”

“Says the 90 something year old man,” I shot back before stopping myself. This was not a good first meeting. I didn’t look at him, instead staring at the wall behind Fury’s desk. You’d think being taught by the Black Widow would teach me to shut my mouth a bit more but evidently I was a bit more like my father...

Fury was giving me a disapproving look again. “I want you to take the rest of the day easy- that means staying away from the gyms. You’ve been shot and I don’t need your mother coming down on me for this. Two days, Romanov, and I want you back in the room. We’ll see how it goes then.”

I looked from Fury to the captain, who looked as confused as I was but I hid it better. Fury turned back to his desk and I knew a dismissal when I saw one.

 

* * *

 

 

I wasn’t really sure how to feel about standing opposite the mat of Captain America. If SHIELD scientists could be believed, my genetics were saturated with a modified version of the serum used on him almost seventy years ago. So it wasn’t like I could break him like I had a couple of Operations guys last spring, but that didn’t mean I was ready to just start beating on a national hero.

He looked even less thrilled than I did.

I’d braided my hair back though I doubted he’d play dirty and use it as a hold against me, and I had to toss it over my shoulder again as I came out of a stretch. Aside from my questionable age, I don’t think he was prepared to fight me.

“I promise I’ll go easy on you,” he offered as we stepped closer. _She’s just a kid_. I smirked, this would be too easy if he kept that mentality.

He immediately shifted into a more defensive position and it was clear his background was in boxing. I swiped forward with my right arm, which he dodged easily. he countered with a cross to my left side and I grabbed his arm. I tensed, crouching slightly as I turned my back to him. With a very rough yank I felt his weight give and follow the way I’d pulled it. The man went over my shoulder, landing hard on his back a few feet away.

To his credit, he was back on his feet in seconds. Clearly confused as all hell, but on his feet nonetheless. “That was a nice move,” he conceded genuinely. I laughed, but I realized something was clicking in his mind as I continued to block his blows.

He lunges at me and even by my standards he’s fast. A fist comes at me and connects with my side- not the one I’d been shot in- and I lost my footing for just a second. He goes to strike again, but is far enough away that I have plenty of time to roll out of the way. The few feet between us would make it close, but there’s not time to worry about it. My perched stance lets me throw myself forward and into the air, _why is he so tall?_ , and over his shoulders. His weight shifts again as I manage to wrap my legs around his head. I use my momentum to yank backwards, my shoulders acting as a counter balance. He tries to pry me off but his legs are already out from under him as my weight pulls him off center. I push off him and roll to the side, landing lightly back in proper stance.

Cap is staring at me as he gets back to his feet. “You’ve got the serum.” It was somewhere between a question and a demand.

“Came with the hair, I guess.” He didn’t quite get the joke, but that’s okay. I didn’t really want to explain it all when I hardly knew myself. This wasn’t an interrogation. Well, actually, maybe it was in a way. Fury likes his secrets…

I ducked out of the way from a hook that was dangerously close to my nose, in the process momentarily leaving my side exposed. Rogers wasn’t an asshole though, and didn’t simply pound into me. Instead he grabbed me around the waist, effectively pulling me off the ground and restricting my ability to get leverage. I shoved my elbow back into his chest, trying to pull away enough to weasel my way out, but he was stronger than I was- or at least much bigger than I was. Then, like I weighed nothing- which I probably did to him- he tossed me over his shoulder and I hit the mat. Hard. Which to be fair was almost exactly what I’d done to him, he just took it more maturely that I did.

I growled in frustration as I hopped back up. The last time someone had floored me that way had been Clint back when I was thirteen. Now days he usually had to resort to distracting me long enough for me to slip up on my own. That wasn’t the case here.

Rogers was an actual challenge and it was both refreshing and infuriating. Not having to worry about multiple attackers was a nice change to be away from with Ops, but he just wouldn’t stay down. I knew Fury was watching from the observation room above, along with a couple of other people who’d stopped to watch why the gym had been ordered clear. May was there, which unfortunately drew more of my attention than I’d thought and I was suddenly staring up at the ceiling from the mat.

We fell into a sort of pattern, it was habitual after years of training. He was good, really good. I mean he was Captain America so that shouldn’t have been such a surprise. Okay, not a surprise. Just unusual for me to have an actual challenge for sparring. It was good, it was what I needed after the mess of Jerusalem. It got more complicated as it went on, more hits landing but much harder to get any real damage in. The take downs were much harder. He’d adapted to my fighting much more quickly than anyone else ever had. I mean it wasn’t easy to best Natasha, but it still happened fairly often. Afterall, she’d taught me almost everything I knew. It didn’t help that I favored using her signature move. Clint would sometimes give me shit about that, but I knew for a fact every time I made a successful takedown with it, though, it made her proud.

I hit the ground again, on my stitched side this time, my fall echoing. Rogers held a hand out to help me up, and I bridged back onto my shoulders, kicking up. My feet collided with his abdomen and I caught him off guard, the wind getting knocked from his lungs with a harsh gasp. He staggered back and I launched myself onto him, pinning him to the ground, kneeing him a little harder than I’d intended to in the stomach. “I’m starting to think you like getting knocked around.” I grinned.

He looked at me funny, confusion and a bit of the faraway look I’d seen on people’s faces when they relive something from the past. It was kind of scary actually, since he was staring at me. Or through me? I don’t know. Whatever was going on in his head was interrupted as Fury walked in.

“Romanov, let the Captain up.” I stood, and pulled the man up. I popped my neck again, knuckles following, and grinned. Fury stood watching me, some plot forming in his head. “How you feeling, Rogers? That last hit looked a bit rough.”

Captain America smiled good naturedly. “No worries, Sir. She’s strong though, not gonna lie.” I grinned a bit wider.

Fury nodded once. “Opinions on taking Romanov on as a training project?” I wanted to say I didn’t need his help but Uncle Phil would absolutely kill for the chance and I wasn’t going to pass up a chance of regular sparring with someone that I couldn’t break in two hits.

Rogers glanced at me before answering Fury. “I think it’s a great idea.”

Fury turned his eye on me. “Romanov, report to 371. Briefing in 15.”

“Yes, Sir, Uncle Director, Sir.” I gave him a mock salute, my braid swinging.

“Don’t call me that ever again.” I grinned and he turned away, heading out the door.

Hill met him just on this side of the door. “Sir, just saying that’s never gonna stop her. Why don’t you do something about it?” She shot me a covert look I pretended not to notice as I eves dropped on my superiors.

“Because it’s hard not to like the awkward girl who grew up wreaking havoc on my operations,” he told her after a second. “That, and her mom is best not to piss off.”

Always knew I was his favorite. It was surprisingly satisfying to get confirmation that he found my shenanigans on base endearing, though usually escaping real punishments as a kid had made it an easy guess.

“So your mom’s an agent then?” Rogers asked from where he now stood by the side of the room. He’d collected his things already, and tossed me my SHIELD coat that I’d folded across a bench.

I caught it but didn’t put it on. I was sweaty and gross, and I loved my coat too much to get it dirty. “Yeah. The best.” My phone flashed silently that the briefing was in just a few minutes. “She’s taught me almost everything that actually took you down.”

He nodded appreciatively. “She’s done a fantastic job then.” I turned to go. Captain America was such a boy scout and I had a briefing to make… “Romanov.” I turned back around, raising an eyebrow in question. “If we’re going to be working together, I’d like to be able to call you by your name. Your given name,” he clarified before I could tell him that Romanov was technically my name. Somehow he just knew I’d try.

I sighed. Fury signing me off to him theoretically gave him clearance to know, I suppose. “Valeriya.” I did turn and follow Fury out the doors then.

It was a relatively short walk to the briefing rooms, just a couple floors away. Plenty of people were out milling around. Logistics agents scrambling about with reports, Ops guys going to and from briefings or the gyms. A few people nodded to me, though mostly people got out of my path. It was largely due to a mixture of fear of my unpredictability and the reputation of red hair- I don’t think it mattered which one of us it was, even.

I didn’t bother knocking, just opened the door. Fury was there, as well as Thomas and several other high ranking agents. Largely from logistics, however, and I only knew a few of them by name. “Where’s Barton?”

“We’d hoped she’d catch you on the way. She should have gotten the alert almost twenty minutes ago.” Hill didn’t look up from the tablet in her hands as she spoke.

Thomas gave me a questioning look, and I realized he must have known about my meeting with the captain. I gave him a brief smirk, nodding ever so slightly. Amusement flickered across his features at the thought of me- all of five foot nothing- flooring Captain America. A look that settled to pride before schooling back to neutral.

“Since Barton’s not here, and we can’t start without her, can’t this be postponed?”

“Not this time, Romanov,” Fury told me somewhat sternly. “Its important.”

I tried not to frown. “I get that, Sir. But I just spent nearly an hour in the gym with _Captain America_ so I’m kinda gross, so couldn’t I have taken a shower first? I probably could before Barton gets here.” Or I could have, if she hadn’t chosen that exact moment to show up.

The room grew silent and everyone turned to look at her. She was out of breath and looked like she’d just woken up. She hesitated as Fury stared her down. “So glad you could join us, Barton.” There was amusement in the director’s voice that manifested in a sarcastic tone. He waved towards the seat near me, directly across from him. “Have a seat.”

Quietly, she slid into the chair. “Hope I haven’t kept you waiting long.”

He didn’t bother to answer. He tapped the holo-table and the air was filled with the documents that’d been prepared for the briefing. It was mostly plans and schedules, diagrams and layouts of buildings and security. “It’s worth mentioning, before I begin, why I personally picked you two for this mission.” That’s never a good way to start a briefing. “The target is a private, secure server in the Colombian Consulate in Moscow, only accessible by a direct link. Otherwise, we would have just asked you to break in from here.” He pointed to a schedule, but I was already scanning the other documents. This was something they should be sending Natasha on, not us. “Now, in six weeks time, there will be a gala at the consulate, and you will use that as a way to get in.”

“Pardon me, Sir, but couldn’t you just send in some older, more experienced agents?” Not that it seemed like the hardest mission, just high risk for a couple of teenagers.

“I was getting to that. Unfortunately, getting in an adult is exponentially more difficult than getting in a child. See, with you, all you need is a parent who’s been invited, and you’re in. With any other agent, we would need to forge or steal an invite, of which might be compromised when the time comes.” I nodded, but didn’t miss the singular way he said ‘agent’.

Serra spoke up then. “And the reason for going during the gala?”

“The only opportunity to get past their security systems.”

That didn’t sit right with me, that was backwards. More people means more security. “Wouldn’t the security actually be stronger during the event though?”

The look Fury gave me was unreadable. “Very good. Yes, it will, but they won’t know to look for teenagers. Which is why you two are going.” He swiped the screen and the documents were replaced by two extremely detailed schedules. I recognized that lay out; those were mission prep schedules. “For the next six weeks you both will be going through a training program related to your role in this mission. I expect you to be ready in five.”

Serra put her phone on the table to download the information. I just scanned them quickly to get an idea of what we’d be doing. My partner’s consisted primarily of basic undercover prep: dancing, basic defense, a couple of things relating to the system she’d be working with.

Mine had a lot of advanced tactics. The pretty names they gave the trainings didn’t change what they were: seduction and interrogation through body language. They were sending me in as an escort.

“If you have no further questions, you are dismissed.” I glared at the director but said nothing. “Report to Training Room 2 tomorrow at 0600.” Rather dramatically, he left.

Serra looked at me. “So… Russia?”

**Author's Note:**

> There may be a number of readers who have read a version of this before. If you are one of those readers, know that this is (and the other 'chapters' following are) not the same works that you read. The previous works were posted with little regard to continuity with Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. or Age of Ultron, and as such changes have been made.
> 
> Please let us know what you think in the comments! What did you like or not like? What do you think could be improved upon? We realllllly appreciate reader feedback to let us know how we're doing!


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